


Tracks

by Coyotebee



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Community: tsn_kinkmeme, First Meetings, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 18:52:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coyotebee/pseuds/Coyotebee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story about Mark and Wardo’s reconciliation, each moment inspired by the soundtrack’s song titles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tracks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [harbingerofcake (her Christmas present)](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=harbingerofcake+%28her+Christmas+present%29).



**1\. Hand Covers Bruise**

 

It obviously started because of what Eduardo did – he was the first to talk to Mark, said more than hello. They were at a party, and the party was stuffed with freshmen desperate to get drunk, to be considered cool. Mark and Wardo knew of each other, were introduced by Dustin there.

A big brawny drunken guy who wanted to keep his popularity intact mocked Mark. He pretended to fence. He stuck out his legs and lunged forward, and everyone laughed. Mark was passing by the doorway and realized what was being laughed at.

“Fuckin’ looooser,” the brawny guy drawled.

A couple girls stifled their laughter when they noticed Mark at the doorway, and the brawny jerk turned around to see why they stopped and saw Mark too.

“Fuckin’ loser!” he repeated, unashamed. Wasted.

Mark glared, but didn’t know what else to do so he kept walking.

Eduardo was in that room beside the girls. He saw what happened. He thought Mark put up a good front. He appeared mean and unaffected. He goes after him. He could probably use some pep talk.

“Hey. You’re... Mark, right?”

Mark was in three-year-old hoodie and khakis. Eduardo was in a goddamn suit.

“Yeah.”

“Have a beer.” Eduardo knelt down and grabbed a can. “Where are you from?”

“White Plains.”

Eduardo didn’t know how to fill the silence yet. Mark didn’t care to make an effort in the conversation. His anger toward the brawny jerk was occupying him, and he was concentrating on not making his face show he cared at all.

“This party’s lame.”

Mark opened the beer can and Eduardo watched the foam slide onto his fingers.

“Are any of the guys here in a final club?” Mark asked after a sip.

“I think Brad over there is in the Delphic. Why?”

“I hear Delphic has a squash court.”

“They do. You like squash?”

“Yeah. Also when it’s cooked.”

It was a split second, then Eduardo laughed. Mark noticed the crinkling at the corners of his eyes and mouth. It was bizarre.

“I could like squash...” Mark murmured. Final club members, that was cool here at Harvard, he had figured out. He’d have to learn to play squash, apparently.

“What?”

Mark looked around, saw that most of these people were freshman, people who he didn’t want to be with. He was shaking, fuck, he was shaking, he was that humiliated by that brawny jerk. “You’re right,” he said.

“About what?”

“This party sucks.”

The room beside them exploded with laughter.

“How about we find Dustin and go get a bite to eat instead?”

Mark was wondering what other aspect of his being was making the room laugh. He swallowed the beer, hoping his mortification went down with it.

“Mark?”

“Sorry?”

“I said, let’s get Dustin and get a bite to eat.”

“I’m gonna go back to my dorm after I finish this beer.”

Mark passed Eduardo, wanting to stand outside away from the babbling girls and boys . Eduardo followed, which weirded him out. He sat down on the top step outside the doors and Eduardo settled right beside him.

Eduardo figured Mark would benefit from the company. He got made fun of and just seeing the type of face he had, the curls, and hearing his quick stilted voice, Eduardo knew it has happened to Mark in high school, and he was probably hoping it wouldn’t happen again at Harvard. So Eduardo said a few things, and tried to say them subtly:

“You know, freshman year is rough. You realize there are still assholes, and they’re worse because they’re assholes with high S.A.T. scores.”

Mark’s eyes shifted. He didn’t know why Eduardo was saying this stuff. He gulped down more beer.

“The only reason anybody hangs out here with Nathan and them is because they always have booze.”

“Sophomore year any better?”

“It’s not looking good for me.”

“Right. I mean, you’re at this party.”

Eduardo laughed. Mark appreciated that someone found him funny here.

“Exactly,” Eduardo said. The squash joke, his remark about the party. This guy is pretty witty, Eduardo thought.

“What’s your name again?”

“Eduardo.”

“Eduardo,” Mark said, his tongue carefully working through the syllables. “Oh yeah, Dustin said you’re Brazilian.”

“Yeah.”

Mark took a final chug of beer. “Well, I’m out of here,” he said.

Eduardo extended his hand. He hoped he made Mark feel better; he can’t tell if he got through. But he was in Mark’s place once, that’s what being Brazilian in the United States of America did, and he always wanted someone to perk him up.

Mark shook his hand and turned to the road.

“Hold on,” Eduardo said and scampered to the entrance. He came back to the top step with a plastic bag. “Take this.”

“Why?”

“To put above your head. It’s gonna rain.”

“It’s been cloudy all day and nothing’s happened.”

Eduardo eyeballed the sky. “It’s gonna rain.” He smiled.

Mark took the bag and jogged across campus, jogging because he was annoyed by how long it took to get anywhere. He passed little colonial-style buildings and went under archways. Pairs of students chattered, but the air softened their voices. The orangey lights were soft too. Eduardo, was he trying to comfort him? Why was he talking about how rough it was for freshmen out of nowhere? He felt less angry though. Somebody else thought that place was a collection of losers.

He reached Kirkland House before it started to rain.  
 

 

**2\. In Motion**

 

It was three dates before their final date, and the second dance they went to together. The first dance, Erica spent the entire time coaxing Mark to peel himself off the wall. He only came away for slow dances, which at the time was enough for her. At that second dance, Mark maintained this rule and Erica wasn’t so satisfied.

“Erica, can you stop?” Mark said, interrupting his conversation with Dustin. Erica was hanging off of his arm, pulling at it every few seconds.

“Let’s dance. This song has a good beat,” Erica said. There was no hope in her voice. Mark wasn’t sure why she bothered to ask.

“What is this song?” Mark asked, looking up to the ceiling. “I think I just heard ‘shake it like a Polaroid picture.’”

“I don’t know. It’s new. But it sounds good.”

“I don’t dance to songs with ridiculous similes.”

“Better than Nelly who wants us to shake our tailfeathers.”

“What about metaphors?” Dustin asked. “Would you dance to ‘Cry Me a River’ if that starts blasting?”

Mark hated dances. He felt like a dog on hind legs when he danced, and the fucking people here thought they looked so slick and sexy when they were all try-too-hards. On the dancefloor, girls had absurb glittery tops that competed with the disco ball, and guys tried to grind. They were a mass of colour moving together like wobbling gelatin. Too much movement. Mark needed to stay still against the wall.

“Just get yourself another drink and talk with us, Erica,” Mark said and turned back to Dustin. Erica violently slid her arm away from his. She spent the rest of the night dancing with her other friends. When Mark decided to leave, Erica accused him of being a selfish bastard.

Mark probably should have seen their break-up coming. However, he never heard the word “selfish” applied to him and didn’t believe that’s what he was. “Selfish” wouldn’t be what would separate them, Mark had thought when he walked back to Kirkland that night.

It was years until he could admit to himself that he was a selfish bastard during that relationship, and yeah, maybe he should work on that.  
 

 

**3\. A Familiar Taste**

 

The first time they dress up their son is for their friend’s wedding. Adam is four then and cries as Eduardo tightens the tie on his neck. Adam sits on the edge of the bed and Eduardo’s kneeling in front of him. Eduardo got him dressed into the shirt and pants. He had cried all the way through the process.

“Daddy, noooo!”

“Be still, Adam,” Eduardo says firmly, dragging up the knot.

“No!” Adam protests and then he flops backward onto the bed. Eduardo keeps holding onto the tie, now more of a leash.

From the doorway, Mark watches Eduardo’s face shift from stern to faux-excitement. He leans over their son and squeezes his doughy baby sides.

“Adam, don’t you want to look _nice_? You’re gonna look so handsome,” Eduardo says.

“No!” Adam sobs, squirms, and curls himself up into a ball on the bed.

Eduardo grasps the edge of the mattress, throws his head up, lets out a dramatic sigh and then propels his forehead onto the bed. Mark chuckles at how theatrical their reactions are. Adam for sure learned it from Wardo.

“I think it’s the shirt. I thought it felt too stiff when we were in the store. Let him wear his white t-shirt underneath,” Mark says.

“It’ll look too casual.”

“Nobody’s gonna be shocked if he’s in a sweater. He has my genetic makeup.”

“God, if you’ve passed down your taste in clothes, I’ll disown him.”

Adam is now clumsily undoing the buttons of the shirt.

Mark smirks. “It’s not going your way, Wardo.”

Eduardo is determined to have his way. He digs around Adam’s closet. Mark sits on the bed and helps Adam take his shirt off. His son throws it triumphantly to the floor.

“What about this one?” Eduardo asks Adam, holding up another white shirt.

Adam shakes his head.

“Adam, please?”

“Let him choose a shirt himself,” Mark says while absent-mindedly playing with his son’s hair.

Eduardo gets out a few regular shirts and two other dress shirts from the closet. He sets them on the bed.

“Okay, Adam. Pick one.”

“Wardo, why did you put out the dress shirts? He’s not gonna go for them.”

“It’s a nature versus nurture experiment.”

Adam points to the one he wants.

“Great choice, Adam!”

“Adam, really?” Mark says. “Are you sure?“

“This is his choice, Mark. Deal!” Eduardo says cheerfully.

“It’s... It’s...”

“My optimism about this kid is restored.”

Eduardo dresses him. When he’s done, Adam is in a pale blue dress shirt without a tie and suit jacket over top. It’s exactly what Eduardo wore at Harvard. Half of Mark is disappointed that his son doesn’t share his fashion sense, the other half is happy that a bit of Eduardo is in him.

 

**4\. It Catches Up With You**

 

“Wardo, come over.”

“Mark, are you feeling all right?” said Eduardo through his phone.

“Just come over.”

Eduardo phone said it was past three in the morning. It wasn’t worrying in itself that Mark was up at this hour. Calling him though, in a frail voice, instructing him to get to Kirkland got Eduardo up off his bed. In three minutes, Eduardo put his hair in presentable order and walked through the fallen snow in his black coat.

After he knocked on Mark’s door, he heard erratic shuffling. Mark opened the door, turned himself around right away, and faltered.

Eduardo lunged forward to steady him. His hip unintentionally caught the door, swinging it wide open. He hooked his fingers under Mark’s arm. Already, Mark had steadied himself. He looked down at Eduardo’s hand, and his brow furrowed. Eduardo didn’t know what that reaction was about right away, and then, oh, he didn’t manage to steady him in time, hence the scowling.

Methodically, Mark lowered himself onto the couch. His hands planted themselves on the back cushions first, then the rest of himself. He kept his head straight up.

“What’s going on?”

“Raster burn,” Mark muttered and closed his eyes.

“Mark, I texted you five times, telling you to cut back on the coding tonight. And to attend to your bodily functions, like showering and eating food other than tuna.”

Mark had been complaining about a headache for three days. Eduardo knew he was spending a ridiculous amount of time coding for their website venture, losing sleep, drinking Red Bull, and straining his wrists. It had been three weeks of that and here was the unsurprising result.

“I know, Wardo. Stop scolding,” he said and gripped his forehead. “My head hurts really bad and can’t move anymore.”

“Have you taken anything?”

“Ibuprofen.”

“You probably have a migraine. Ibuprofen is about as helpful as eating a cactus at this point.”

“That’s why I want you to get me a cold compress.”

Eduardo wouldn’t say it out loud, but he liked doing this sort of thing a lot. Helping. He liked thinking it was something he knew how to do instinctively. Eduardo found him the compress and put the ice in it. Mark just laid on the couch with his eyes shut the whole time, sometimes rubbing at them. Chris and Dustin weren’t there in the dorm room. Eduardo would’ve asked if he thought Mark could handle unimportant questions at the moment.

“Here,” Eduardo whispered and put the compress on Mark’s forehead carefully. Mark opened his eyes.

“Your eyes are red, man. It looks like you got stoned.”

“Yeah,” Mark said, closing them back up and taking the compress himself. Mark looked truly miserable.

Next, Eduardo went into the bathroom and poured Mark a glass of water.

“Here. It’ll clear out all Red Bull and Mountain Dew,” Eduardo said. Mark sat up and took the glass. Eduardo held the compress to his head while he did.

“Chug it. Your body needs all of it,” Eduardo instructed. “Do you need anything else?”

“No.”

“You need, like, vitamins or something. You’re made of caffeine right now. ”

Mark didn’t say anything. He gingerly tips the glass into his mouth. Eduardo sat there, observing Mark, assessing his condition which is sick and weak. Everything that can be done had been done, as far as Eduardo knew. He told Mark he was heading out.

“Go to sleep. See you.”

Mark didn’t say goodbye back or do anything like nod. It probably hurt his head to do that.

Before Eduardo headed back out, he took the blanket that was crumpled on the floor and laid it over Mark. This final touch was more for Eduardo than for his friend, to assure himself he was helpful. Putting a blanket over someone is what taking care of someone was. That’s what was done. It was Mark no less, and Eduardo wasn’t stuffing it in and denying it, the accomplishment of being essential to Mark, faraway Mark who he had caught up to tonight.

He switched off the lamp and slipped across the room.

“G’night,” Eduardo whispered, and the wash of light on the floor coming from the hallway turned into a slit then disappeared.

 

**5\. Intriguing Possibilities**

 

“Five bucks on this being a domestic,” Dustin says to Chris, pointing his chin across the cafeteria to the table Mark and Eduardo are sitting at. Their severe gazes at each other tell Chris and Dustin that they’re arguing. It’s lunchtime at the Facebook offices, so the place is echoing with indistinct conversation. From where Chris and Dustin are seated, only Mark and Eduardo’s gestures and expressions can be read. They can hear the occasional murmur from them. That’s the best it gets.

“Five bucks says they’re arguing about business,” Chris states.

“You know why I say it’s a domestic? Because I think I heard Mark say ‘Wardo.’ He never calls him that when it’s Facebook-related.”

“What? That can’t be a pattern.”

“We’ll see how it pans out.”

“Ten bucks on them making up within the next ten minutes.”

“Hell yeah, you are _on_.”

Like meerkats, they observe Mark and Eduardo.

“Wardo’s getting animated. It’s not looking good for you, Chris.”

“No, you gotta watch Mark. He’s the determining factor. He actually listens to Wardo sometimes now. He looks focused.”

“Come on, Wardo. Yell at him a bit like you used to. Piss him off,” Dustin mutters.

“They both look fed up. This can go either way now...”

Mark says something and it makes Eduardo smile.

“Dustin, you see that!”

Eduardo reaches across the table and squeezes Mark’s arm.

“Damn it!” Dustin says.

“I win!”

“Hold on, let me see if I get my five dollars, at least,” Dustin says and walks over to Mark and Eduardo. Chris watches him talk with them. Mark looks pretty confused the whole time. A smug Dustin comes back.

“Domestic, like I said! Arguing about their house and being green or something... Anyway, buy me a sandwich with that five!”

“You just ate one.”

“I, Dustin, am still hungry!”

 

**6\. Painted Sun in Abstract**

 

Eduardo dragged himself, along with his suitcase, into his dorm room. After a cross-country flight, normally he would have slept off the fatigue of travel. This particular return trip made him achingly restless; the rub of the seatbelt against his waist was never so grating.

The plane had landed and his limbs were freed first, and now without people around him to judge, forcing him into an I’ve-got-it-together expression, Eduardo let the muscles in his face drop.

He opened his suitcase, and put his clothes away. He didn’t catch the untidy folds at the cuff of his suit jacket as he hung it up, and he laid his razor on the wrong side of the sink. Shirts were placed in the wrong drawer. He was still in the Palo Alto, shouting at Mark.

It was his first time thinking his outrage toward a person was thoroughly warranted. Every cutting remark and glare he directed at Mark was full force, unwavering and unapologetic, and now after time to reflect, he wasn’t regretful of what he did. Eduardo was aware of his temper, that it rose too quick for rationality to trap it, but once rationality did roll in, his anger washed away and he would realize he was wrong. In this case, he knew he was right to be furious.

Eduardo placed his cell phone on his nightstand, then noticed the poster above his headboard. It showed a shattered sun, its rays painted as orange squares over a black background. Mark gave it to him on his last birthday. His interest in meteorology made Mark choose it for him.

Eduardo peeled the poster off the wall. It was a dumb, melodramatic thing to do, he knew. He just didn’t want a reminder for the rest of the school year. Not bothering to be careful, two corners creased and ripped. He crumpled the paper up, liking the noise it made.

He was standing in the middle of his room pointlessly now. He didn’t know what else to do with himself, the resentment in him. It wasn’t enough to replay the scene in his head, how he slammed Mark’s laptop. For a moment, he was scared he was stuck like this, having never having experienced this level of rage before.

He thought for a while more, and calmed down by thinking of the lawsuit he’d file. It should work in his favour. He would piss Mark off, make him feel smaller than he ever did at Harvard. That will be the most gratifying thing to do.  
 

 

**7\. 3:14 Every Night**

 

During the first two weeks Mark and the interns moved into the Palo Alto house, he texted Eduardo their membership total on a daily basis. Eduardo told him to do it, got him to set an alarm to break him out of a coding spree. Eduardo didn’t really need to know those numbers. 167,023 then 170,588 were small increments, akin to counting the bubbles forming in boiling water.

He asked for them to remind Mark of his existence there in New York. He could sense Mark losing him at the end of that semester. It gave him relief, pathetic as it was to be relieved by texts sent at 3:14 a.m., exactly. Eduardo knew Mark had set the alarm for 12:15, Palo Alto time, and guessed that the clock was a minute ahead.

After 205,612 members, the texts stopped. Eduardo sent messages about other things, and sometimes would get an answer. He mostly convinced himself that Mark was busy with Facebook stuff like he was, and he had to admit that sending numbers was superfluous.

Despite his reasoning, Eduardo was lonely and feeling inadequate. 179,437. 182,626. The higher the numbers got in those texts, Mark’s need for Eduardo lessened.

One night when he woke up, he checked his cell just in case. No message. He shut his eyes. In the uncontrollable cynical state that falling asleep brought, Eduardo was sure he was going to be abandoned.

 

**8\. Pieces Form the Whole**

 

“It’s gonna rain.”

“Mark, I didn’t come here to hang off your arm all night.”

The blanket on him – it was stained by a coffee spill.

Next week, their names were all over the fridge.

205,612

The razor slipped into the sink and he didn’t notice.

_Please don’t let him be right._

Another man down,

Then glares come from all three.

“What was your ownership share diluted down to?”

_You should read a few._

“New York is okay. How’s Palo Alto?”

A memory shakes; he could return.

A navy umbrella opens over them, and

Here he is again (but not by himself),

Asleep and falling.

“That can’t be a pattern.”

One quick smile,

Another for the shirt taken off the bed.  
 

 

**9\. Carbon Prevails**

 

Eduardo and Mark are having lunch in the Facebook cafeteria. Eduardo stirs his soup unattentively, his concentration all on the graphs he has spread out across the little two-person table. They show temperatures rising all over the country during the past decade, and the second page shows the graph for Brazil.

“We should be more environmetal,” Eduardo says to Mark.

“We’re friends with Al Gore on Facebook,” Mark says through a mouthful of salad.

“I’m being serious,” Eduardo says, smiling in spite of himself. “There’s so much carbon in the air. It’s throwing everything off. It’s scary.” He points to his graphs, though he knows it means little to Mark.

“Maybe in a few years we can install solar panels on our house.”

“Let’s do it now.”

“There’s a lot of Facebook things going on right now.”

“Let’s do it now.”

“Wardo, we’ve been doing enough lately. You’re a recycling Nazi,” Mark says light-heartedly. “You bring home the styrofoam cups from here and make us use them again.”

Eduardo realizes he needs to show his seriousness better. He touches Mark’s wrist. “Mark, this... this is important to me,” Eduardo says, tilting his head a little. “This isn’t one of my ‘philanthropic flashes’ I get after we go to fundraising dinners for cancer or A.L.S.”

“I know, Wardo. You’ve gone on about environmental issues for a long time. You cried three times when we saw _An Inconvenient Truth_.”

“It – it was frightening, all those predict– never mind. What’s the reason for opposing solar panels then?”

Mark leans back on his chair and ponders. “You now, the noise of workers banging away at our roof, all the planning we’d have to do...”

Eduardo throws his head up and sighs loudly. “Seriously? Temporary disruption? It’ll be pretty disruptive when there’s, you know, hurricanes coming through the Valley caused by global warming.”

“I’m doing so much travelling lately.”

“Then you won’t be home to hear the noise.”

Mark’s eyebrow twitches upward. “You got me there.”

“All that’s keeping you opposed to this idea is indifference.”

It was kind of mean, but Eduardo learned he has to be blunt with him occasionally for Mark to gain perspective on himself. It works – Mark stares down at the table, his hands now in his hoodie. Eduardo waits it out by playing with the edge of his papers and staring into Mark’s curls.

“You’re right. I am indifferent. Let’s get solar panels.”

“What?” Eduardo thought that if Mark came around, it wouldn’t be this quick. It took pestering to change Mark’s mind. This was a change. A good one.

“It means something to you, but while –”

“I love you.”

Mark is interrupted by those words, then by the sudden appearance of his own grin. It’s quick to go though. The reaction is an embarrassing slip in his stiff demeanor which utterly delights Eduardo. It was him who managed to do that. He gently grasps Mark’s arm.

“But while we make arrangements, no talk about carbon dioxide and methane levels, or wind turbines, okay? That’ll put me right over the edge.”

“I promise,” Eduardo says. They get back to their lunches. After two spoonfuls of soup, Dustin approaches them.

“Hey, so... Weird and possibly intrusive question coming up: What were you guys just arguing about?” Dustin asks.

 

**10\. Eventually We Find Our Way**

 

Mark scribbles a spaceship on his legal pad.

“Mr. Zuckerberg, you’ve maintained that restoring your image at Harvard was not a matter of concern for you,” Gage states.

“Yes.”

“And Mr. Saverin had that impression as well.”

Mark senses Eduardo looking at him.

“Yes. Is this relevant?”

Divya rolls his eyes.

“Yet in _The Crimson_ , it reports that restoring your reputation after the Facemash incident was a goal of yours.”

“Okay. Where are you going with this?”

“You had motive to steal our idea,” Divya spits out. “Every girl on campus thought you were a dick up until Facebook spread.”  
Cameron nods slightly. Gage isn’t so pleased by the outburst.

“Mr. Narendra...” Gage says in the tone of a parent who’s frustrated with their child.

“I didn’t build Facebook so girls would forgive me and sleep with me,” Mark says coldy.

“Sure, but you clearly built Facebook in order to be... _part of the cool kids_ ,” Divya says mockingly, almost smiling. “You wanted popularity. You were desperate for everyone to know your name.”

Sy lays his hand on Mark’s forearm, reminding him to hold himself back. “Gentlemen, calm down,” he says.

“That’s why you ran off with our idea. Oh yeah, and why you screwed over this guy later on,” Divya says and gestures to the further end of the table where Eduardo is sitting. Eduardo clenches his jaw and peers at Mark. Mark is sickened by the trace of a smug smile hitching his mouth.

“Mr. Saverin’s case is unrelated to this deposition,” Gage asserts.

“If I wanted to distinguish myself... So what?” Mark says. His glowering eyes slide over Divya and the Winklevoss twins. They may as well be triplets with those matching sour expressions. “It was better than your purpose for creating HarvardConnection – pure greed.”

“Mark, let’s get on track –” Sy begins.

“You chased me through Harvard Square, you called your dad’s house counsel... You went to the _President_ of Harvard? Pathetic.”

“Well, we made it here, didn’t we? Eventually we find our way,” Tyler says.

In avoiding eye contact with the twins and Divya, Mark’s gaze incidentally lands on Eduardo. He doesn’t know what Eduardo’s thinking, he’s just aware that neither of them know if they should ignore each other or stay bitter. Ignoring is the better option. On his paper, Mark starts to draw an umbrella.  
 

 

**11\. Penetration**

 

 **From:** Chris Hughes  
 **To:** Eduardo Saverin  
 **Date:** May 5, 2008 3:43 p.m.  
 **Subject:** Important Notice!

It’s none of my business but I’m making it my business. Have you read Mark’s e-mails? All he wants is to have drinks with you. He’s not planning on proposing

 **From:** Eduardo Saverin  
 **To:** Chris Hughes  
 **Date:** May 6, 2008 9:22 a.m.  
 **Subject:** Re: Important Notice!

I’m sorry man. I’m not ready to do that. How are you anyway?

 **From:** Chris Hughes  
 **To:** Eduardo Saverin  
 **Date:** May 12, 2008 2:54 p.m.  
 **Subject:** Open this and win a FREE iPOD

You know that leak from mark’s computer?The instant messages? His livejournal was hacked into as well at the time. Private entries from October 5, 2003 to August 20, 2004. You should read a few. He talks about you. It’s nothing bad I swear!

I’m great! Apart from the fact that 2 of my friends have hated each other for almost 4 years now. It makes this Chris sad!

 **Attachments:** zuckonitlj.pdf (754.0 KB) — DOWNLOAD

 **From:** Eduardo Saverin  
 **To:** Chris Hughes  
 **Date:** May 14, 2008 8:14 p.m.  
 **Subject:** Re: Where’s my iPod then?

I may not like Mark very much but I don’t want to invade his privacy. Besides what he writes is probably nothing I don’t know. He’s an ambitious guy with an inferiority complex that makes him do stupid inconsiderate things.

 **From:** Eduardo Saverin  
 **To:** Chris Hughes  
 **Date:** May 14, 2008 8:19 p.m.  
 **Subject:** Sorry

Sorry I didn’t mean to direct my anger towards you

 **To:** Eduardo Saverin  
 **From:** Chris Hughes  
 **Date:** May 15, 2008 9:45 a.m.  
 **Subject:** Re: Sorry

It’s okay.

Mark just wanted all of us to be on even ground. When you got punched by the phoenix, he wrote that he was worried you’d leave him behind. He was scared too of how big Facebook was getting. He needed you there in Palo Alto.

 **From:** Eduardo Saverin  
 **To:** Chris Hughes  
 **Date:** May 15, 2008 7:55 p.m.  
 **Subject: Re:** Sorry

I know both of those things. Why so invested, Chris?

 **From:** Chris Hughes  
 **To:** Eduardo Saverin  
 **Date:** May 16, 2008 3:26 p.m.  
 **Subject:** And then they lived happily ever after

I like happy endings!! :)

 **From:** Eduardo Saverin  
 **To:** Chris Hughes  
 **Date:** May 16, 2008 7:30 p.m.  
 **Subject:** Re: And then they lived happily ever after

Sorry to let you down, Chris. It’s nice that you care this much. I think it’s better that me and Mark move on with our lives.

 **From:** Eduardo Saverin  
 **To:** Mark Zuckerberg  
 **Date:** May 17, 2008 3:18 a.m.  
 **Subject:** (No Subject)

Okay, let’s meet up. When and where?

_(Saved to Drafts Folder)_

 

**12\. In the Hall of the Mountain King**

 

Sean invited some people over, and there were sweaty drunk girls lazing around the living room. The house was hot; Mark felt the heat between his skin and the couch most of all. He was only there for the nachos. He hadn’t eaten in sixteen hours.

Sean was the only one standing, and he kept yammering away. “There are beaches! The coast goes on for miles! Sand everywhere, it was so warm and peaceful underneath your feet, oh man, you’re minds would be blown. No sharks either, no sharks!”

“Chris would be disappointed about that,” Dustin says from the floor, sprawled on his back to feel the coolness. Everyone was watching Sean saying things and flinging his arms around, yet nobody was really listening to him besides Chris and Mark. Mark was only listening because he never witnessed a person who was high off something other than weed or ADHD meds.

“I swam in the middle of the night and it was fuckin’ beautiful. Under stars under the moon and it was like, glowing like Christmas lights. We got a bonfire going and drank until we were passing out on the benches – an amazing night, I’ll never forget it, you gotta go, you all gotta go sometime, I’ll book a reservation tomorrow, we’ll get it all sorted out before the night is over, you’ll see, that’s how much I want to get you guys all over there. We gotta go tonight, Dustin look up flights on your laptop – someone turn the stereo up, it’s waaaay too quiet! – get onto the American Airlines site it right now, man, we are going over to Hawaii, check the costs, it’ll be no problem!”

Sean noticed Mark and his nachos, and his eyes widened.

“Mark, my man! You’ve been coding all night!”

Mark braced himself. Sean pulled him up from the couch.

“Hey, there’s someone I want you to meet. This is, this is – Lacey. Lacey, right? Yeah, no, I’m right, I got it. Lacey, this is Mark, the founder of Facebook.” Lacey gets pulled from the floor too. “I told you about Facebook before, didn’t I? This guy invented it all, he’s a visionary – damn, the lights in here are bright, it’s really distracting – the next Steve Jobs right in front of you, he’ll be a billionaire buying himself a castle and the goblins and trolls, the Roths and Manninghams won’t be allowed to ever get in! Mark’s been coding all night and he’s got these tappy fingers like little – little tap dancers on a stage!” Sean wheeled around and shouted, “Hey, turn the music up!”

“Hi,” Mark said to Lacey blankly. He looked back at Sean, noticing how blown his pupils were and how his limbs flicked around. Mark was expecting Sean to launch himself into their pool and drown sometime tonight.

_“He crashed out of two pretty big internet companies in spectacular fashion and he’s had a reputation with drugs... We don’t need him.”_

“Me and Mark have been so pumped about this. We’ll be on top of the world, looking down at our minions, looking really good in a crown, crowns match my complexion. Baby, you are in the hall of greatness right now, you don’t even know what’s going on in here, now dance with me. I know you wanna dance!”

“You are really, really high!” Lacey chirped and grabbed his arms.

“Wow, there are so many layers to this song! Crazy!” Sean exclaimed.

Mark sat back down and Sean started jumping to the music, too fast for the beat. This Sean was a worrying. The energy he gave off was a foreboding one, and it was at the centre of the company. It could explode. Mark prayed Eduardo wouldn’t be right.  
 

 

**13\. On We March**

 

“Two nights ago, Sean was arrested for possession of cocaine,” Dustin says. It’s hardly a year later.

Mark’s morning grogginess vanishes. They’re outside, Dustin having stopped him from going into the Facebook building to have some privacy.

“Police busted a party he was having out there in North Carolina. They found all sorts of hard drugs.”

“Were there other employees there?”

“Probably.”

“Shit,” Mark says. “Is he in jail?”

“No, he was released. Maybe there’s not enough evidence against him. I… I don’t know details.”

“Word’s already gotten out?”

“Press has a sniff of it, yeah.”

Mark’s expression becomes pained. “Great timing. Less than a week before we open up Facebook to high schools.”

The day Sean returns to the company’s headquarters, all of them, Sean, Mark and other important figures like Peter Thiel and Jim Breyer, have a meeting. The key words: “Sean, we’re advising you to step down from your position as the President of Facebook.” Fortunately, it’s Peter who makes the statement, not Mark.

Mark gladly walks out of the conference room when the meeting’s over. Sean tails him.

“I thought we were on the same team,” he says. Some of his curls are sticking up in the shape of question marks, and his breath is piercingly minty.

“Sean, we discussed all this in the meeting,” Mark says and continues down the hallway.

“Breyer. He’s always wanted me out of the company. Breyer called those cops in. I’ve seen him – I’ve seen him talking with my assistant,” Sean says, his voice getting quicker as goes. “He could have called her and she could have told him about the party we were ha–”

“Jesus, Sean. You need a prescription to an antipsychotic.” Mark refuses to look at him.

“Breyer’s always been against me. He needed to make _something_ crazy to happen to me so there’d be a reason to boot me.”

“Sean, it’s simple cause and effect! You’re a constant danger to Facebook’s professional image, ergo, we want you to resign. This is the second time, _second time_ you’ve been arrested while you’ve been part of Facebook.”

“I’m great at my job.”

“You are. But outside these doors, no one trusts you. According to the public, right now Facebook has a felon as its president.”  
Sean throws up his arms. “Breyer’s brainwashed you, hasn’t he? He’s convinced you and Peter that I need to go.”

“I came to that conclusion myself.”

“So… So is every employee you screw over allowed to smash your laptop?”

That’s a blow. Mark stops walking and he means to glare. He’s only capable of glancing at Sean and lowering his gaze in case his hurt shows.

“Ooh. That wound is still open.” Sean says it icily.

“This is business, Sean. I thought you’d understand that. You know this is–”

“I wasn’t formally –”

“– cliché, but we all make mistakes and –”

“– charged with a crime. Everyone knows what I’m like anyway, it’s not –”

“– we get dragged through the mud –”

“– a big deal. I like parties, I like –”

“– but on we march.”

“– having a good time!” Sean says. “You’ve never been against that.”

Mark shrugs. “I gotta get to work, Sean.”

Another man down. Unlike when he did it to Eduardo, he doesn’t regret this.

 

**14\. Magnetic**

 

Mark recovered from the migraine that the coding for theFacebook had given him. Eduardo made sure his body wouldn’t self-destruct again. He did this by leaving notes on the mini-fridge, held up by magnets that said “HACK” on them.

_Mark,  
Drink something other than Mountain Dew today. I got you orange juice. — E.S._

_Dustin & Chris: Do NOT eat the pasta salad in here. For Mark’s ailing body only. — E.S._

_Unfair. — Chris_

_I ate it anyway! — Dustin_

_The new container of pasta salad is for MARK. Assholes. — E.S._

_Eduardo, get me more ibuprofen? Thanks. — Mark_

_Wardo, buddy! Order me a cheeseburger tonight while you’re at it! JK!! — D_

_Order me one too. Not kidding! I’m hungry and too busy studying. Please?! — Chris_

_FROM THE GOODNESS OF MY HEART, YOUR CHEESEBURGER HAS ARRIVED. — Wardo_

_Wardo,  
This morning, I discovered my Mountain Dews were stolen. Main suspect: 5’10” Brazilian male, approx. 21, nickname: Wardo. Last seen wearing a three-piece suit and carrying a bag filled with overconcern. _

_— Mark_

_P.S. Would appreciate it if you picked me up a microwaveable dinner._

_Thanks for the cheeseburger!  — Chris_

_Mark, I put all the cans back and emptied the bag of “over” so now there is only “concern.” I got you macaroni and cheese. KEEP CODING. — E.S._

_SHOPPING LIST FOR EDUARDO SAVERIN: 1) Beer 2) Milk. 3) Cheddar cheese 4) Cool Whip. PLEASE?  
— Dustin_

_No, you lazy bastard. — E.S._

_SHOPPING LIST FOR OUR EXCELLENT FRIEND EDUARDO SAVERIN WHO MAKES US BETTER AS INDIVIDUALS: 1) Milk 2) Cheddar cheese 3) Cool Whip. — D_

_No beer cuz that was REALLY needed so I got it myself hahaha_

_Done. — E.S._

_WARDO THE MILK TASTES WEIRD. PLZ EXPLAIN. — A DISTURBED MASCOVITZ_

_It’s milk for kittens. You didn’t specify what you wanted, so I had to take a guess. — Wardo_

_EDUARDO! THAT’S WHY MY COCOA PUFFS TASTED FUNNY? — Chris_

_Witnessed Mark drink some of it while coding. He doesn’t notice it’s kitten milk at all ha! — Dustin_

 

**15\. Almost Home**

 

New York City. Eduardo had met up with Mark for drinks, the first time they’ve interacted for the sake of being social, not for business. Mark is driving Eduardo home to his apartment. It’s been an okay time, Eduardo feels. No awkward silences. They’ve both gotten better at filling those in with questions like, “So what’s it like, living in New York City?” or “Who’s Dustin’s latest pursuit?”

After Chris’s e-mails, Mark had kept sending him messages on a monthly basis. One night, Eduardo opened them all. Every one of them invited him out for a drink, worded a little differently each time, but always ending with, “I’m sorry for being an asshole.”

Eduardo decided he could finally be cordial with him. He considers this snowy night out as a Christmas present for Mark. A little bit for him too – something settles inside him, knowing they can talk casually.

“We should do this again sometime,” Mark says.

“Yeah,” Eduardo says blankly.

“Really. Next time I’ve got a meeting in New York, we can hang out.”

Eduardo sits himself up and looks right at Mark. “What are you doing?”

“Probably scowling in overly trendy club that I was invited to... You could come.”

“No, what are you doing, asking me this?”

“I’d like... I’d like to be friends again,” Mark says and shrugs.

“Were we ever friends?” Eduardo says. That may have been too sharp.

“Yes,” Mark says, unfazed. “And I get that you’re resentful. But let’s give it a shot.”

“It’s been nice just catching up.”

“I can get Dustin and Chris to come here too.”

Eduardo takes his gaze off Mark, and shakes his head. “I agreed to this meet-up and accepted your apology. That should be enough for you. I’ve let you have the closure you want for yourself.”

Mark grips the steering wheel tighter. “It’s not just about finding closure for myself.”

“I don’t believe you,” Eduardo says.

“I think it would benefit you.”

“Are you se—How?”

Mark winces. “Never mind. I went too far. I’m sorry.”

Eduardo’s annoyance has flared up. He’s already given Mark more than he deserved, this opportunity to reestablish their respect for each other. Eduardo’s been civil with him and that’s all he’s willing to offer. It means he hasn’t completely gotten over Mark’s betrayal, isn’t the mature adult he wants to be, but whatever.

For the next few minutes, they’re quiet. They’re in Eduardo’s neighbourhood now. In front of a McDonald’s, there are carolers in Santa hats. Mark pulls up in front of the apartment building.

“You know, it’s been two years since the depositions, and I’m a little different now. You’ve made me learn a lot.”

“I’m glad,” Eduardo says. He really is. He’s surprised as well.

“We can go for another drink down the street.”

There’s an insane force that goes through Eduardo in half a second, pushing him into the seat. It doesn’t overcome him. It’s been a long time since he’s tried to make Mark happy, and not trying has made his life all right. When there’s too much Mark, he’s infuriated by him.

“No, Mark.” He starts getting out of the car.

“Okay. Merry Christmas. Later,” Mark says once he’s out.

“Merry Christmas. Bye.”

 

**16\. Hand Covers Bruise, Reprise**

 

This scene is in Eduardo’s memory because it was the first time he saw Dustin sad:

Eduardo texted “How was the date?” to Dustin, expecting him to read it when he got back to Kirkland. He got a reply right away: “Stood up.”

Eduardo ate his supper faster. He’d get to Dustin as soon as he could.

Mark remembers too.

He was writing an essay for his contemporary art class. Dustin came in a minute ago, uncharacteriscally silent which Mark was grateful for. Mark turned in his chair to reach for a textbook, and spotted Dustin on the couch, eyes shut.

“It’s eight o’clock. Why are you sleeping?” Mark asked.

“Steph Attis didn’t show up.”

Mark forgot that Dustin’s reason for being out was for that date. “That sucks,” he said. He hoped that was enough sympathy to satisfy Dustin. It was all Mark had the energy for. Before going back to his essay, Mark checks theFacebook.

“63,246 members,” Mark declared to no reaction from Dustin. Didn’t matter. Mark opened up his textbook.

Mark heard the television turn on and saw that Dustin was still on the couch, hardly able to hold up the remote. He realized how pathetic and kinda sad it was to see Dustin this way, not bouncing around the dorm anymore. He went to their fridge, old notes sticking to it and took out a beer.

“Come to New York with me and Wardo. You’ll get to meet Sean Parker,” Mark said. This was his attempt at cheering Dustin up.

“I don’t know,” Dustin said.

“You can hit on girls. Girls that aren’t Harvard snobs.”

“I’m not very good at hitting on anyone. It took me a month to ask Steph out.”

“Sean Parker’s apparently really charming. You can get tips from him,” Mark said and took a drink from his bottle.

“His tip would be to create a million-dollar company so women will just come to you.”

“You’re theFacebook’s programmer. Almost there.”

Dustin barely smiled. Mark shouldn’t have tried to do this; he knew he was appalling at this aspect of friendship. He should have left it to Eduardo. Mark thought of what kind of things he’d say and comes up with, “Do you wanna talk about it?” He has heard Eduardo say that before.

“How much of a loser I am? Okay. I suck.”

“Not true.”

Eduardo was coming up the stairs of Kirkland House.

“I’m never gonna get a girlfriend.”

“Chris won’t either.”

“Funny,” Dustin said. “Difference is, girls actively reject me .”

Eduardo got to the door and cracks it open to assess the situation. Mark was standing by Dustin, who was slumped on the couch.

“Not true either,” Mark said.

“I’m like the...” Dustin said. “I’m like... I’m not even witty enough to come up with a good comparison of how bad I am with girls.”

“You’re having an off day.”

“I’m having an _off life_.”

Mark shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Steph must think it does.”

Like he was the one who got stood up, Eduardo felt Dustin’s sense of inadequacy. He stepped into the room.

“Who cares about her opinion. I’ve heard her talking in class. She’s a vapid highbrow with bad hair extensions.”

“She has _wonderful_ hair extensions.”

“Still leaves the vapid highbrow part,” Mark said.

It’s five years later, and what Eduardo saw between Dustin and Mark as he came in is the most significant part of this memory now. It used to be what came after, him approaching the couch, asking “Dustin, you okay?” and slipping a hand on Dustin’s shoulder. Not anymore. He realizes that he saw one of those rare moments of Mark’s compassion. It was easily overlooked because Mark’s tone stayed taut and he kept throwing sharp remarks. It’s not the way Eduardo comforts someone, not as effective, but Eduardo gets that it makes no difference in the intent – to be caring. Eduardo had concluded that Mark was self-centered to the point of heartlessness. He changes his mind on that.

“I’m a loser,” Dustin said to Eduardo.

“No, man. Hey... Girls are stupid sometimes.” Eduardo sat beside him. “You’re a great guy. You’re smart. You make everyone laugh.”

Dustin nodded. Mark went back to his desk. He heard Eduardo going on, saying things like, “You’re not judgmental. Carefree... We’ll go have a beer tomorrow, how about that?”

Mark chuckled at the corniness of it. At the same time, he admired how natural it was for Eduardo, and that’s why Mark remembers this moment. Eduardo is kind and open, and Mark needs someone like that. And if he keeps trying, is patient enough, Eduardo might want to rebuild their friendship, will agree to a second night out with him, then a third and fourth, and eventually, Mark will have him again.  
 

 

**17\. Complication With Optimistic Outcome**

 

Eduardo follows Mark to an ornate building of arches and brick where the deposition will be conducted. Somewhere inside are the Winklevoss twins, Divya, and Gage. They’re suing Mark again, this time for concealing information about Facebook’s valuation, so more money is owed to the twins.

Eduardo feels the need to offer comfort – Mark’s been quietly bitter most of the ride – so he brushes Mark’s arm as they walk. He’s holding an umbrella over them too, shielding them from drizzle. Eduardo thought this deposition, like Winklevoss deposition before, would roll off of Mark. Annoy him at most for time being wasted. He was nervous about this one, Mark admitted to him yesterday. He didn’t have to explain to Eduardo why.

They reach the top of the stone steps. Eduardo lowers the umbrella.

“Text me when you’ve got lunch. I’ll meet you,” Eduardo says. Mark nods. “The Winklevosses won’t win this one, Mark. I know it,” Eduardo says. His confidence is genuine. “They’ll lose and everyone will think they’re the assholes. Not you.”

“I’m, like... really happy you’re here,” says Mark, looking at the ground.

Eduardo smiles, then kisses the curls behind Mark’s ear. “See you.”

He watches Mark step through the doors.  
 

 

**18\. The Gentle Hum of Anxiety**

 

The doors close behind Mark. The back of his neck is already aching from the stress. He’s not thrilled by more time being wasted or the possibility of being labelled as a triple douchebag by the media if he loses this case. A triple douchebag because he’s supposedly created a company with a stolen idea, screwed over a friend in the process, and now he’s been stashing money owed to others through deception. He’s sick of being known as an asshole... Afraid of it, really. This deposition might cement his reputation.

He’s not as worried as he could’ve been – Wardo’s certainty about the Winklevosses walking away with nothing helps. Mark didn’t think it would, but it seems to matter to him nowadays, what Eduardo believes.

 

**19\. Soft Trees Break the Fall**

 

That first summer in Palo Alto, Mark had a recurring dream and it comes to him again. He’s being chased after. There’s a figure lunging for his feet, undefined except for being bright and shaking. He’s running away from it, and then there’s Wardo in the distance.

Mark gets to him, panicked. “What’s down there?” he asks, noticing they’re at the edge of a cliff.

Eduardo never answers this. Sometimes Mark is aware of that he’s been at the cliff before and didn’t get an answer those other times, so he always ask.

And Eduardo drags Mark toward him, and every time, Mark notices the desperation on his friend’s face, and when he wakes up this is the detail that is most vivid. That, and the fall. Because Eduardo pulls them sideways off the cliff, and Mark feels the gravity, how the only thing grounding him is his hand around Eduardo’s wrist. And Mark isn’t scared, he isn’t ever scared.

Then branches surround them, and leaves. They land in them gently. Mark is still gripping Eduardo.

This is when Mark wakes up, and he wakes up and code is out of his head, and it doesn’t matter if he’s a failure, a loser, or if he’s forgotten; he doesn’t have to be a Sean Parker. Because the dream makes him feel steadied and unbothered and during those first months in Palo Alto, that feeling at least lasted for a little while into the night.

Now when Mark wakes up from that dream, the feeling stays; it’s in him for good. Wardo’s pressed up against him, there, resting.


End file.
